Guarded
by shelivesfree
Summary: All Sansa had ever known of men was betrayal. They had lied to her, and abused her, and mistreated her. So our Winter Rose of Stark had built up her walls over the years. She hid behind layers of suspicion, and mistrust and disdain. And all it took was one Dragon King to knock them down.


_**Guarded**_

 _All Sansa had ever known of men was betrayal. They had lied to her, and abused her, and mistreated her. So our Winter Rose of Stark had built up her walls over the years. She hid behind layers of suspicion, and mistrust and disdain. And all it took was one Dragon King to knock them down._

* * *

All the men in her life had disappointed her. As a young girl of eleven, she had dreamed of marrying the beautiful boy with the golden curls. It had been her dearest wish. Her nights had been filled with dreams of golden haired children, with the blue eyes of Tully, running joyously through the burgundy walls of the Red Keep, her Prince's arm slung through hers, his emerald eyes smiled down at her. Sansa Stark had soon learned how foolish it was to dream. Life was not a song. True knights had disappeared along with the dragons. Men were false, and unfaithful, and ruthless. She would find no happiness in dreams, the Hound had told her as much.

She had grown distrustful of men. Ser Dontos swore to take her back home, so had Littlefinger. He had promised her. Instead, he had taken her to the Eyrie, forced her to partake in treason and the death of her Aunt Lysa, and made her hide her true self under the guise of Alayne Stone. He had used her to gain power, never caring about her own needs or wants. Men were cruel and took whatever they desired.

So when the Dragon King had come to her, had taken her hand in his and gazed at her with those beautiful, violet eyes, she took him as false.

 _Marry me, and together we can right the wrongs in this realm._ His words hung in the air. She had not believed him. No matter how kind his gaze, or how soft his touches, sooner or later, he would betray her trust. She kept herself guarded, never let him so much as kiss her before their wedding day. Even as he stood behind her, removing her white maiden's cloak and wrapping her in his cloak of protection; black velvet with the crimson, three headed dragon of Targaryen, she did not believe him.

That night he took her maidenhead, as gentle and loving as a maid. His fingers were soft against her skin, and his lips worshipped every inch of her body. He murmured over and over how lovely she was, how beautiful she was, how much he loved her. But even as he moved inside her, causing her pleasure she had never known before, and even when she cried out his name in the throes of passion, she still did not trust him. _He will betray me,_ she thought to herself, as he wrapped his naked body around hers, his silver hair spilling over her breasts like liquid starlight. _All men lie._

No matter how much she willed herself to hate him, her Dragon King continued to surprise her. Each night he took her bed, but he did not touch her unless she asked it. At first, Sansa had believed it was merely a trick; she hardly let him do more than kiss her in their marriage bed, so he must have a string of whores waiting to please him. But he never did. And after a while, Sansa let her husband do more than kiss her. Many a night, the knights of the Kingsguard that stood sentry outside their room would bear witness to the cries of their lovemaking. Their efforts got her with child within a year of their marriage.

At a great tourney the King had held in the honour of his first child, he had defeated all his opponents and crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty. As he unhorsed his last opponent, he had taken off his black dragon helm to reveal that glorious silver hair, strode over to his wife and laid a wreath of winter roses in her lap. _My beautiful Queen,_ he had announced to the entire audience. _My lovely Winter Rose._ He had stood up in his stirrups, leaned over the railing and kissed her so fiercely, that her cheeks flushed pink. The crowd cheered loudly, and chants of _Queen Sansa, Queen Sansa_ , echoed loudly through the whole of Kings Landing.

Against her own will, her heart had begun to thaw and she had grown to love her husband. He was sweet and gentle to her, a kind and fair ruler besides, with wise, loyal men to guide him. He had restored her uncle Ser Edmure as Lord of Riverrun and the riverlands, her brother Rickon as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, as much to please her as for the good of the Realm. He had even let her name their children, forsaking the Targaryen tradition. Sansa had given him seven healthy, silver haired children; four sons and three daughters, and they brought the greatest joy to her life.

She continued to wait for him to disappoint her, but he never did. Until that day came, some fifty years later, when he lay on his death bed. She had knelt beside him, dismissing the Maester so that she could care for him herself. His face was lined, his hair whiter than ever, but his violet eyes were still as beautiful and kind as they had been when she first met him. She had stayed beside him for days and nights at a time, until his fire finally went out.

Sansa had told herself that she would not weep; she was a Queen and she needed to remain strong. When his body was given to the flames, as befit a Targaryen, she kept face, standing as tall and stoic as a statue in her black gown of mourning. But as she returned to her bed that night, as she lay beneath the sheets, she remembered his voice whispering that he loved her; his fingers caressing the curve of her hip, her cheek, brushing her thick, auburn hair from her neck so he could kiss her. She remembered his skin sliding against hers as he made love to her, the way he felt inside her as he spilled his seed, the cry of her name upon his lips. But mostly, she missed his eyes. Those beautiful, violet eyes that had never once lied to her.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she curled herself into a ball. She finally realised that she had been wrong; her husband had never betrayed her trust. She pressed two fingers to her lips as a river of tears spilled from her eyes. _I love you, Aegon Targaryen,_ she whispered into the night, praying to any god that would listen. _Always._

* * *

 ** _A/N: My first ASOIAF fic. I really, really hope this comes to pass. I must say, I adore the idea of Aegon VI and Sansa being King and Queen. After everything that she has been through, I feel like she deserves someone loyal, who loves her and doesn't hurt her. This might be a bit OOC, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways._**


End file.
